Leaping the Rift
by ffeineandsugar
Summary: Crookshanks has passed on, and Ron has been tasked with finding a new family pet. What he finds takes him far from home. Rescuing Ron from the Old Kingdom may prove difficult for all involved, especially if magic has different meanings in different places. It turns out that going home, too, may not be what one expects. Rated T for some dark themes, among other things...
1. Chapter 1

Author's disclaimer – I'm not the one who created any of the worlds in this story. The Potterverse is obviously the work of the great J.K. Rowling. And the Old Kingdom (and surrounding lands) are the work of Garth Nix. All of the characters that follow (except for a few O.C.s) are the brainchildren of one of these worthy authors. I'm not making any gain from them. In fact, the only thing I have done is probably something I shouldn't have – introduced them to each other. They say that different types of magic shouldn't mix. Oops. But what the hey – sometimes, you have to tempt fate and give it a go. Which I have started to do here. Rated T for some fairly dark themes (the Old Kingdom is certainly a place that knows this, and don't even get me started on the river!). Canon compliance is go for everything except the epilogue of DH. Look for me to upload about once a week, if all goes well. That's the intention, even if life gets in the way. Reviews = longer chapters! ...and many thanks to colorfulraincloud aka ThatOneQueerFangirl for beta-ing!

Ronald Weasley was cold and miserable.

This was not the first time, he reflected. Diving into freezing ponds, guarding a tent in the cold,…, no, Ronald Weasley was quite familiar with being cold and miserable. Being out in this late October rain was nothing new. It still wasn't good.

But it was still better than disappointing Hermione. He had done that before, and the results were less than pleasant. Funny, that. In the past, he would have run away from the cold, hidden from the work, and looked for a warm fireplace and a nice game of chess. Being with Hermione all those years meant learning what it meant to work. He never really understood how his father dealt with his mother until he had been married for a few years himself.

Telling his father _THAT _was an education in its own right.

Still, he had a job to do, and it wasn't just to please Hermione. He had Rose to think of as well. The girl was just as heartbroken as her mother when Crookshanks finally died. They were both inconsolable for days. The house was still somber, three months later. Funny thing – third year, Ron had thought Crookshanks a monster. Now he was looking for his successor. He remembered the conversation the family earlier that night.

"Are you sure you're ready for another pet?

"Daddy." Hands on hips, and that stare. Rose had a way of looking at him that made Ron feel weak, no matter how right he felt.

"Hermione! Help!"

"Ronald, we already talked about this. You know what I expect."

"'Mione!"

"Maybe you should go right now, if you don't want to disappoint your daughter."

"It's dark outside. It's raining! You know the Magical Menagerie isn't open!"

"Which is why you SHOULD have taken care of this today BEFORE you came home from work. This is the third day in a row you forgot. Go. Get out! NOW!" Her voice was starting to become hysterical – a dangerous tone that Ron knew all too well.

"Go where? To a muggle pet shop?"

"No. Rose wanted a magical cat. Find a magical cat. Find a stray in the alley, or such. Bring it back. Is that simple enough for you?" At this point, the glare on Hermione's face was rapidly approaching the danger mark. Ron was made of sterner stuff, but when Hermione glared at him like that, hands on hips, she bore a remarkable resemblance to his own mother on a tirade. This was never a good thing. Having learned that joking and teasing only inflamed her further, Ron tried one last argument, sounding weak even to himself.

"All right then. How are we going to keep this new cat indoors? Won't it just escape?"

"We can use Crookshank's kit from when he was old to get him used to us. Now go. The sooner you find a cat, the sooner you can come home."

"What if I don't find a magical cat?"

"The menagerie opens in the morning."

And so he was out here in the dark and the drizzle. A jar of bluebell flames would be nice. A warming charm would help. But he had to find a magical cat, and the menagerie was closed. Nothing to do for it except keep looking. Even a revelio wouldn't work in this case – it wouldn't work reliably on any magical non-human creature, and it might just scare away any creature that might do.

At least he wasn't likely to be picked up by the aurors. Ron had chosen a spot behind Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, which meant that he was known. There had been more than a few occasions when experiments after dark had required the staff to leave the building. Ron chuckled to himself – last time, George and Angelina had to remain outside the store for three full days.

Maybe his need would draw the animal to him. Although, he thought ruefully, if it were truly that way, it should have been Rose outside, not him. The need would begin the binding, and he would have to get the cat home and hope that Rose needed the cat more than he did. And if the emotions were wrong, they'd make an enemy, one no doubt with claws and teeth. What was 'Mione thinking, putting them in this position?

There! A flash of white fur! One of the local alley cats was pouncing on a mouse, only 20 feet away.

Ron knew what to do. If he just tried to sneak up on the cat, it would escape. It might even turn and scratch him. Instead, he'd have to apparate, grab by the scruff, and immediate apparate again. One, two,….

Three! A bang, and he was on the cat. Grab and yell "HOME!"

And a sly voice belonging to that white cat, with eyes greener than pickled toad, said, "Which home?" Ron felt a hook pull him by the navel, and everything went dark.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer – None of the characters or settings in this work are mine, alas. The Old Kingdom and the Abhorsen series are the work of Garth Nix. The Potterverse is all the work of JK Rowling. I may be allowed to play around with these settings and people, but none of this is for any kind of profit. Thanks as always to my beta reader, ThatOneQueerFanGirl!

Chapter 2: Leaping the Rift – Climbing Out….

Ronald Weasley woke up to find himself sitting on a flat plain of dirt. No hills, no trees, not even a bug could be seen. The only variety was a series of ragged looking flags that extended into the horizon, one every 500 feet or so, and a pattern of scorch marks scattered all over the ground. A white cat with startlingly green eyes stared down at Ron from where it was seated next to him.

"Ugh. What happened?"

"You went home," sniffed the cat. "You just didn't say whose home. Yours, mine, Abhorsen's…."

Ron ignored the fact that there was a talking cat staring down at him. In his dazed state, all he could think was that Hermione was going to be so unhappy with him. And how was he going to get home from here? But before he could say anything else….

"Hmm. You wouldn't happen to have a pack, would you?" The cat seemed a bit worried.

"A pack?"

"A pack. A place to hide me in."

"Hide?"

"Save me from dense people. Yes, hide!" The cat was sounding less and less happy by the second.

"But why?"

"No reason, just those free magic sorcerers running up the path. Probably gathering spirit glass, but they'll be happy to take us, too."

A dazed Ron had only time to ask, "What?" before a spell hit him, and for the second time that night, everything went dark.

Ron woke up at the bottom of a deep canyon. A stream gurgled nearby. It looked like a long climb to the top of the one side. Strangely enough, he couldn't see the other side of the canyon – everything was blocked by haze, as if somebody had cast a visual muffliato. He sat up, and heard the merry jingle of chains. A silver chain was around his neck? Panicking, he looked around, jostling his pack.

"Shhhhh!" A glint of green and a white paw, claws extended, stuck out of the pack. "The Ghost Horse Clan found us. I can get us help, but you have to stay calm. The chains are spelled to bind any magic.

"Why?"

"Why am I doing this? I need help. You're going to bring me that help. Or would you like your world to become like mine?"

"What? I don't even know who you are, let alone how I got here. How am I supposed to help you?"

"You aren't. But your friends might. I've leapt across a lot of worlds to find one like yours. I need someone who can read what you call runes. You can't. Your friends probably can. They'll find you. And if you have any magic, hide it! No doing magic. Your life depends on it!" And with that, the cat vanished back in the pack. Ron quickly threw his wand in the pack after the cat, into the part that Hermione had made for him – the undetectable extension charm. The cat seemed to follow with a wink. How strange. Ron took a breath, and waited to see what would happen next.

The next three days went by in a blur. Ron was forced to walk hours at a time, along narrow and dusty cliffside paths. It turned out that his captor was a large man, face swaddled in cloths so that only the eyes were visible. Those eyes were dark brown and forbidding. There was another man, much smaller, also attached to the chain, also a captive, with chain around the neck, but he (it was a he, wasn't it?) seemed even more frightening than the man in cloths. This other man was dressed in some sort of armor made of bones – white finger bones wired together in the same way that somebody else might weave chainmail. Over that was a sword. How would somebody who was a captive be permitted a sword? And there was a bandolier of sorts across their chest, with seven pouches. Protruding from each was a black, ebony handle, as if seven wands were available to this person. Neither of these people ever spoke. Ron was allowed to keep his pack on his back – not that there was much in it, since he thought he'd be in the city rain, not on a long forced march. The cat seemed to have disappeared also – probably in the middle of the first night, but it was hard to tell. Sweat stung Ron's eyes, as he finally realize what had happened.

It was like a gang of snatchers, but something was missing also. Ron realized after a moment what it was – there wasn't the same level of fear that he had earlier. Hermione, Rose, all of his friends and family would be there for him. The man who looked like a death eater was in the same state he was – walking with a chain around his neck. And if that were the case, what would these Ghost Horse people do? They were giving him the same food, (admittedly bland – what he wouldn't do for some home cooking instead of jerky!), the same sleeping rough mats, the same conditions that they had. He'd been through worse. And he had grown. Last time when Ron ran away, he'd run straight into a group of snatchers, and then home. He'd let his friends down. His friends wouldn't let him down. They'd find him. And the cat had promised help as well. Maybe the cat was fetching his friends? Or someone?

What was the cat's name, anyways? Was it even a cat? Even a kneazle was not this intelligent – something was going on here. And at least they seemed to be going away from the first place they'd been, with the burns and the scorched earth. What had happened there?

Think chess. That always seemed to help Ron calm down. When he was working as an auror, thinking in terms of strategy was his best help. For now, he was a trapped piece. Nothing for him to do. So that meant that someone else would have to move to free him up. There would be someone. It was just a matter of who, and when, and what next. The rules had been set down. Do nothing. Say nothing. So that's what Ron did.

Until the end of the third day, when they came to the end of the canyon trail. And found….

Author's Note: Don't you just love cliffhangers?


End file.
